


Drift

by DeanRH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is Older Than Dean Winchester, Existential Angst, M/M, Road Trips, Strangers to Lovers, Sub Dean Winchester, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRH/pseuds/DeanRH
Summary: Dean drifts, alone.Or maybe not.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 73
Kudos: 45





	1. Afternoon Sun, Late Autumn

Dean woke, soft and bleary, in the late afternoon sun shining through the Impala's windshield.

It was cold, and the air in the car had turned clammy.

Napping wasn't a luxury he enjoyed often. He stretched a little, his tired muscles protesting.

He started her up, just to get warm. 

He knew that he couldn't stay out here, not during this time of year and not in the Impala, where he would be a sitting duck.

Dean didn't have a lot of money to his name, but he signed up for a month-to-month in a little rooming house.

No jobs, no Sam, no Dad.

Instead of feeling freedom, he felt like a puppet useless after the wires were cut.

And he couldn't spend the winter in the car.

***

There was a guy, Dean saw him from time to time, scorchingly hot and a little grizzled, unkempt clothing and maybe fifteen years his senior. Dean would catch a glimpse of the guy during the first week of his stay at the rooming house.

The guy starred in more than one fantasy as Dean fucked into his fist, laying alone in his bed at night. All he could see were blue eyes and a sex-deep growl of a voice, fantasies of Dean whimpering and bratty as this older man took him in hand and railed him to teach him a lesson.

But then -

just as Dean was reaching the crest, a shout caught in his throat so as not to disturb his neighbors -

the man's eyes blazed with light, great dark shadowed wings unfurling on the wall behind him, and it seemed that he had more and more arms suddenly, bracing him above Dean's body, some kind of eldritch creature rearing up -

and Dean threw his head back, coming all over his stomach on a silent scream, the most intense orgasm he could remember.

Afterwards, he lay staring at the cracks in the ceiling for hours, wondering where the hell that had come from and why.

Because he knew for certain that his own mind had not conjured up the image of an angel.


	2. Phone Call

Dean tossed his keys onto the dresser with a sigh.

_Struck out. Again._

He couldn't fathom it. He was early-twenties, not bad-looking, bright smile.

_Some nights,_ he swore.

God, if Sam were here, he'd never have heard the end of it - 

_Sam._

Dean decided that it was bad for his health to continue down that road.

His thoughts drifted again to the furiously-hot older dude he saw around sometimes. Probably wasn't even into guys, but _damn,_ was he arresting. Dean had nearly collided with him at the grocery store a couple of days ago and seeing the guy close-up did nothing but put his libido into overdrive.

Getting shot down was one thing, but _liking guys?_ A whole 'nother level.

Not that he'd tell Sam (or anyone!) about that - it was something private, something _his,_ something that his dad and society couldn't take away, if it lived only within his own mind.

Sure, he wondered sometimes, if Dad suspected, if other people did -

but Dean made sure. He made certain that nobody could see it.

He'd never actually _done_ anything, those thoughts and fantasies were all he had, since _Dean Winchester: Ladies' Man_ had been stamped on his forehead. He knew this because he often imagined it when looking at himself in the mirror after -

_after_ he had these private thoughts.

The whole, _monster-angel_ aspect, that was new.

But, Dean figured, par for the course given his chosen career.

The phone rang, drawing him from his thoughts. It was the old kind, sitting on the dresser and plugged into the wall.

"Hello?" he asked, a little confused, because it was the middle of the night and nobody knew he was there, as far as he knew.

"Hello?" an old woman said, almost simultaneously, in his ear.

"Hi," Dean replied.

" _Who are you and what are you doing on my telephone line?!_ " shrieked the old woman.

"Whoa! I - I - there must be a wire crossed somewhere, lady, because my phone rang too," said Dean.

" _Get off my line!!_ " she screamed.

"Okay, okay," Dean huffed, and set the phone back into its cradle again.

He sat on the bed and blinked.

"Old fashioned crap," he said to himself. "Have to talk to the phone company tomorrow, or something."

The phone rang again.

Dean sighed, and let it ring.

It rang, and rang, until there was a loud thump on his wall.

Dean reached out and lifted the receiver.

He heard static hissing.

" - _six - six, seven, nine - where's the -_ "

and the voice fell into another hiss of static.

"Hello?" Dean tried.

To his surprise, the voice answered him.

" - _can you - it's - you can hear me?!_ "

"I can hear you," said Dean.

Then the line went dead.

After a minute, Dean set the receiver back in the cradle.

He rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted.

"So much for a break from the job," he said aloud.


	3. Gender Bent

Dean opened the door, threw his keys on the dresser, and went to wash his face in the tiny sink located in the wall. 

He had to share the actual bathroom with the rest of the people on his floor, but had his own sink. 

After he washed his face, he made Tang in the same sink and sat down on the bed with a sigh.

Small-town life, maybe the standstill-life in general didn't work for him. He'd spent most of the day at the phone company and all he got for his troubles was a headache and a promise that somebody would be out there to check on it soon. 

Probably. Maybe.

He set the Tang down on the dresser and fell back on his bed with a groan.

He really needed to blow off some steam, and then thought, _hey, angels, that's the latest thing, right?_

So he set the stage, far away from this rooming house and its too-thin walls.

_It'd be in a real apartment, at least._

_She'd be sitting on a low dresser or cabinet, and there would only be light from the kitchen._

_'Lay, Lady, Lay' would be playing in the background._

_Dean approached her. She was beautiful, with long, dark hair and too-blue eyes, looking up at him with trust._

_Small black wings unfolded behind her, pressed up against the wall, feathers fluffed._

_She wore a white shift, wrapped around her curves._

_Dean approached with a soft smile and gently opened the shift, exposing her beautiful body to the low play of shadow and light._

_"This your first time, darlin'?" he murmured._

_She looked up at him and nodded._

_Dean had never been one for the inexperienced, but somehow the whole **angel** aspect helped._

_"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he whispered. "Gonna make you feel **so** good."_

_He kissed her then, soft and slow._

_"C'mon, sweetheart," he said against her lips. "Open up for me."_

_She parted her legs sweetly for him, and he wondered at the size of his hands, his calloused fingers against her soft white skin. He pet her inner thighs with a feather-light touch, watching as she relaxed into it._

_Then he knelt down and dropped a soft kiss over the hood of her clit, making her jolt and cry out._

_Then, he reached out with his fingertips and softly parted her lips, leaning forward to push his tongue inside._

"Yeah," Dean whispered harshly to the empty room as he jacked himself soft and slow. "Yeah. Just like that."

_He kept eating her out until she was a sobbing mess above him, and then stood, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down beneath his ass, his hard cock jutting out._

_She wrapped her arms around his neck as he guided himself to where she was wet and waiting, and slowly began to push inside._

"Fuck," muttered Dean, his hand speeding up on his cock. "Ah, _fuck._ "

_He set a rapid pace, unable to help himself, as he shook the countertop she was sitting on and her soft cries filled his ears._

_Suddenly, the shadows around him seemed to deepen, almost imperceptibly._

_He looked down at her, from where he was towering over her, and was startled to see her look back at him with a smirk that did not belong on the face he had been imagining - a knowing, confident, are-you-serious kind of thing -_

_and those wings suddenly grew up and out, massive and heavy, and he was on a bed, and the angel was the man he had seen, bigger than Dean by far, wrapped around him entirely -_

_wrapped around him with more hands than Dean knew humans possessed -_

_and he could see, as his head was brought rough and gentle to lean against the man's left shoulder, the column of Dean's throat exposed and the man's hand against it with a light insistent touch -_

_the man's eyes blazed blue and his teeth were together in a growl lit up by electric sparks he kept safely there -_

_and those huge wings dwarfed them, dwarfed the room,_

_and Dean was startled further to find that **he** was now the woman in this situation, heavy breasts hanging down, all the hands drawing him close and tight to the angel's body, flush with his chest, and more hands spreading his legs wide to allow the angel to plunge deep within him, and somewhere far, far away, Dean was screaming, screaming -_

" _Ahhhh_ **FUCK!** " Dean roared as he came all over himself, nearly jackknifing off the bed entirely.

There was a loud _thump_ from his neighbor's wall.

Dean shuddered through the aftershocks, uncomprehending, unseeing, all he saw in his mind's eye was the spread of those great wings and their shadows behind.

Minutes passed by.

Dean felt like he'd been hit by a 2x4.

The strangest thing was -

that was _not_ his fantasy.

It was as if someone or some _thing_ had taken over, said _no, it goes like this,_

and left Dean reeling.

_Incubus?_ his brain supplied helpfully.

He was going to _have_ to confront that guy who kept starring in these weird, all-too-real fantasies.

The phone rang.

Dean stared at it for a moment, and then got up and hobbled to the sink, washing himself off and cleaning up as best he could.

He shrugged his jeans on.

The phone kept ringing.

There was another _thump_ from his neighbor.

"All right, all right," muttered Dean, trying to collect what was left of his mind and put it back together into some semblance of normalcy.

"Don't bitch at me, lady," Dean said, and then picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

More static, a strange whistling noise.

Dean was about to put the phone down again because he really couldn't be bothered with this shit, especially not at this time of night.

" _-lo? ...ester, do you copy?_ "

"What?" Dean asked, growing more irritable by the minute.

There was another rush of static, and then it was clear.

" _This is Dean Winchester. Do you copy?_ "

Dean froze.

He pulled the receiver away from his ear and stared at it.

Then he put it back.

" _This_ is Dean Winchester," he replied. "Loud and clear."


	4. Crazy Someplace Else

"Ha ha, very funny," said Dean, and dropped the phone into the receiver.

He shook his head. People sure did some weird shit for kicks.

The phone rang again.

Dean snatched it up.

" _What?!_ " he snarled.

"Don't you dare hang up on me again, you son of a bitch," growled the voice on the other end of the line.

"Huh. Okay. And you're me," said Dean. "What, did we smoke a pack a day of menthols, that shit will fuck you up, it's why we switched to Marb Reds, remember?"

"Very funny," said the guy on the other end. "Look. I'm you. From the future."

"Okay, Marty McFly," Dean said. "If you're me, then tell me something nobody else knows."

"You masturbate more than anyone on the planet."

Dean froze.

"And when you do it, you're thinking about guys," the man on the phone continued.

This didn't do much to improve Dean's wellbeing, but then he realized why it sounded so familiar.

"Great. Quoting _Dogma_ ," he said. "I'll give you another movie quote. _Go sell crazy someplace else, we're all stocked up here._ I'm hanging up now, uh, me."

"Tell you something else about _Dogma,_ " the other guy said. "You seen any angels around lately?"

Now this had Dean's attention.

"Angels?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes are from _Dogma_ , another film about angels, and _As Good As it Gets_.


	5. Interchange

"That got your attention," said the Dean on the phone. "So, any angel activity?"

Dean could feel himself blushing.

"Ain't no such thing," he said.

The Dean on the phone laughed.

"Ah, shit, I remember that," he said. "Fucking of course I end up - look. You're in Betty's Rooming House, yeah? Remembered the phone number."

"Thinkin' about movin' on soon," lied Dean, his throat tightening.

_Not until I talk to that guy, though._

"Yeah, yeah, always with the itchy feet," said the Dean on the phone.

"Okay," said Dean, sitting down carefully on the bed and crossing his arms. "Let's say I believe that you're me. Why are you calling?"

"I - tone it down, Sammy, I'm gettin' to it!" the Dean on the phone snapped.

"Sam?" asked Dean, perking up. "Sam's there with you?"

"Yeah, kid, he's fine," said the Dean on the phone. "Look, there's something I gotta tell you and..."

The static suddenly interrupted the call.

" - important," said the Dean on the phone. "Aw, what the _hell_ is with this service?"

"Hello?" asked Dean, suddenly very worried about getting cut off. 

"I'm here, kid."

"Knock it off," said Dean.

"Sorry, it's just - " the Dean on the phone sighed. "If I told you that you had a second chance to get everything right, this time - "

The static interrupted them again, and Dean swore.

The Dean on the phone's voice returned mid-swear, making Dean grin.

"Hey," said Dean. "Can I ask a question?"

"Shoot," said the Dean on the phone.

"Where, exactly, are you calling from?"

There was a hesitant pause.

"That's a long story."

" _What are you doing on my phone line?!_ " shrieked the old lady.

"Aw, _come on,_ lady!" shouted Dean. "It ain't my fault, okay?"

But she descended into incoherent screaming until Dean reluctantly set the phone into its cradle.

When he picked it up again, all he got was the dial tone.

***

A few days went by before Dean saw the guy again.

He was in the communal bathroom brushing his teeth and the door swung open.

There was the guy! Staring at him, as if he'd been caught doing something.

"Hey," said Dean, free and easy. He didn't want to spook the dude.

"Hey," said the guy, cautiously. "I was just - "

"Name's Dean," Dean said, sticking out a hand.

"Uh. Cas," replied the guy, shaking it.

"I've seen you around town," Dean said.

"Just passing through," Cas said. His eyes were huge and startled like a dog caught in the garbage.

"Ha, like me," said Dean. "Nice to make your acquaintance. Rough to be alone in a new place, you wanna go get a drink sometime?"

And then he fucking _winked_ at him, way to look desperate, Winchester!

But the guy didn't seem to mind, in fact he looked fucking _thrilled._

"I'd like that," said Cas.

"Tomorrow night? That dive bar across the street, what do you say?" asked Dean, because once he picked up on some interest, he was unrelenting.

"Sure," said Cas.

"Meet you there around seven?" Dean pressed.

"Yes," Cas said. 

"Great," said Dean. "It's a date."

He finished brushing his teeth and went back to his room, only this time, left the door open a crack so he could see which direction this Cas guy went after he was finished in the bathroom.

Eventually, he saw him walk down the hallway and slow cautiously near Dean's door.

_Gotcha,_ thought Dean.

Then he watched as Cas unlocked the room _next to his!_

The neighbor who kept thumping his wall was _the hot guy?_ The maybe-incubus guy?

"Oh, it's on," muttered Dean to himself, and set his plans in motion.

***

" _Ugh,_ yeah, Cas," Dean muttered as he fucked up into his fist.

His right arm was plastered up against the wall, so he _knew_ that Cas, whoever he really was, could hear him.

In his mind's eye, he envisioned Cas plastered against the wall, facing it, wanting Dean - no, _needing_ him, but unwilling to touch his own cock to relieve the pressure.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean sighed. "I want it too. I want you too. Fucking touch yourself - _ah fuck..._ "

Dean could hear _something_ that sounded like a whine from the other side of the wall.

"God, you must be so fucking pent up," Dean kept up the steady stream of conversation. "I know you wanna dominate the shit outta me, shut my brat mouth, _fffff - oh God Cas -_ "

He set up a litany, a chant, and something about Cas's name on his lips was _doing_ something for him, or maybe the incubus just wanted a better taste -

but Dean was an absolute mess, chasing that high, moaning uncaring now because he knew who was listening on the other side.

"C'mon, Cas, give into it," Dean begged. "Give in to me - _please. I can be good for you, so fff- ah, ah, ah - good for you, Cas, please -_ "

Unmistakeable now, he could hear a moan on the other side of the wall.

In his fantasy, Cas had finally reached into his pants and given his cock a tentative stroke, shuddering with it, a moan escaping his throat.

" _That's it, c'mon,_ " Dean chanted. " _Show me who's boss -_ "

" _Stop taunting me, Dean Winchester, or I'll give you something to scream about,_ " Cas's voice growled in his head.

Dean came so hard he slammed his fist into the wall and nearly cracked it, his back taut in a delicious, beautiful arc, and when he came down he was somewhat startled to find himself babbling.

" _Ah, shit, shit, yes, I'll be obedient, on my knees, Cas, anything for you, I'd do anything, anything, anything,_ " he breathed out before the world righted itself again.

"Shit," Dean whispered again, before he finally got his shattered brain back together and hauled ass off the bed, out the door and into the hallway, busting into Cas's room where he found the man on the bed against the wall, _exactly_ how he'd imagined, giving him a startled look -

and then vanished right before his eyes.

"Son of a _bitch!_ " Dean swore.


	6. Angels

Dean was unperturbed. He knew that an incubus could be drawn out.

And he also knew that he was just the guy to do it.

He'd been used as bait enough times.

Besides...they had a date.

***

Dean sat in the bar, nursing a beer and watching the door.

The bells jingled, and much to his delight, Cas put in an appearance.

"Right on time," Dean muttered to himself with a grin, as Cas approached the table.

_That's an incubus for you,_ he thought. _Gets a taste, then can't get enough._

"You made it," Dean said aloud, and Cas nodded once, sharp and sure.

"We had an appointment," Cas ground out, and _damn, that voice_ brought to mind filthy alleyways and illicit encounters.

"Y'know," Dean drawled, wrapping his lips around the neck of the bottle and taking a drink, then leaning back and letting Cas take a look at the goods. "We could get to know each other better, but I think I'd like to jump straight into the action. You game?"

"Game?" repeated Cas.

"Yeah," said Dean, and then got to his feet, leaning in to whisper in Cas's ear.

" _Let me take you to bed, old man._ "

He drew away, and saw _something_ shining in Cas's eyes.

_Yahtzee._

Dean set the beer down on the table, and offered Cas his hand.

Meekly, Cas took it, and followed him.

***

Dean writhed on the bed, uncaring, as Castiel stood and watched.

"C'mon, Cas, please," begged Dean. "Touch me."

Cas looked terrified, intrigued, turned on. 

But he very obviously wasn't about to touch.

The phone rang, making them both jump.

" _Damn it,_ " Dean swore.

He picked it up.

"What?" he barked.

"Gotcha," said his older self on the line. "Thought I was toast, man."

"Look, uh, I'm kinda in the middle of something here."

"I know exactly the kind of thing you're in the middle of," said Dean. "I remember my mid-twenties. Hot girl?"

"No, actually," smirked Dean into the phone. " _Guy._ Older. Wears a trenchcoat. Voice like -"

" _Is Castiel there?_ " barked the Dean on the phone.

Dean covered the receiver.

"Is your full name Castiel?"

Cas nodded.

"Uh," he said. "Phone's for you."

Cas - _Castiel_ \- took the phone, and listened. 

His eyes lit up like a slot machine and the rest of him seemed to melt.

"I thought it best - " he said, but from the angry sounds he could hear from the other end, his older self was unhappy with this development. 

Then he regarded Dean, who was palming himself through his jeans while laying on the bed.

"Yes, I see what you mean," said Cas flatly.

Then he handed the phone back.

"He wants to talk to you again," he said.

"Yeah, what?" snapped Dean. 

He cupped the receiver and turned away.

"Trying to catch this incubus for you," he whispered. "You could _let me do our job_?"

"What incu - are you talking about _Cas_?!" Dean demanded, startled. "Oh my - he's an _angel,_ you absolute dumbass, stop thinking with your dick!"

Dean froze.

"Don't seem all that angelic to me."

He glanced over at Castiel, who seemed to be taking a lot more interest in the proceedings than Dean would've expected from an angel.

"No way," he said. 

"Way," his older self replied. "And, uh. The - the way you feel about him, that's all you."

"Why are you whispering?" asked Dean. "Don't tell me you ain't hopped onto this hot piece of ass."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"I'm - I'm working on it," Dean finally muttered.

"Working on it? For how long?"

"Uh. Eleven years now, give or take," said Dean, guilt lacing his voice.

" _Eleven -_ " yelped Dean. "Hell! Do we become a prude in our old age, because I will absolutely do you a solid right now and cut you a slice of angel food cake - "

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" the Dean on the phone said. 

"Didn't you say that you were calling so you could make different choices, this time around?" asked young Dean, giving Cas another once-over.

"Yeah, but...this guy's _different,_ okay? Not for slutting around with, not the whole wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am-or-sir thing we had going on in our twenties!"

"Why?" asked Dean, curious now. "What's he to us?"

Another long pause.

"Because...he _means_ something," said Dean.

"How so?"

"He...he feels like home."

Nothing else his elder self could have said would have rocked him the way those words did.

"Oh," said Dean.

"Yeah, _oh,_ " said the Dean on the phone. "Now will you listen to me, you little slut?"

Dean hissed a little.

"Damn," he said. "Maybe _you_ should travel back in time with that Marlboro-smoke voice and teach me a thing or two."

"You're fucking impossible, you know that? Was I always this - shut up, Sam!"

"Hey, it'd be like masturbation, right?"

"I give up," said the Dean on the phone.

"Wait, no," said Dean, feeling suddenly contrite. "I - tell me what's gonna happen. I gotta know."

The Dean on the phone breathed a long-suffering sigh.

"There's going to be - you gotta get ready, okay?" he began.

Static suddenly cut them off.

" _Damn it!_ " Dean shouted.

The phone was suddenly filled with dead air.

When he turned around, he saw that Castiel was gone.


	7. If the Phone Doesn't Ring, It's Me

Dean stood underneath the hot spray of the shower, scrubbing at his chest as he soaped up.

He couldn't get Cas - _Castiel_ \- out of his head.

_God,_ he'd wanted -

he'd just _wanted._

And yeah, he was probably a lot more serious as an older man, maybe he'd gone underground entirely with his interest in dudes for Sam's benefit if Sammy was around -

but he _got it,_ the difference with this guy.

He imagined being down on his knees in front of him, begging _please, please, let me suck your cock,_ and Castiel _finally_ giving in -

" _Fuck,_ " he breathed, because he was fully hard again, and he was only human.

Thoughts of Cas on his mind as he took himself in hand, he moaned a little, the sound echoing off the tiles in what he was very quickly reminded was a _communal_ bathroom.

Because suddenly, startlingly, his arms were full of _Castiel,_ and the slick slide of soap -

"I'm sorry," panted Castiel. "Dean, I'm so sorry - "

as he kissed him everywhere he could reach, and the water pounded down around them, and Castiel spun him and bent him over, Dean could see Cas grab his own hard cock in his hand, and Dean got ready to be absolutely _railed_ within an inch of his life, and looked forward to the pain -

when Cas seemed to pause, stock-still, and whisper a harsh:

"I'm sorry," 

only to leave Dean there, hard and aching and disappointed, confusion and rejection slamming into him like a physical thing.

***

Dean was in a foul mood as he stomped back to his room.

He opened the door to find _some guy_ standing in there, and yelped in surprise.

"Sorry to startle you, sir," said the guy, tipping his hat. "Just fixed your phone line for ya. There was interference on the line. Should be good to go."

"Oh," said Dean, dazed, as he belatedly remembered they were going to send someone out to fix the problem. "Uh. Thanks. And tell the old lady I really am sorry, she seemed pretty upset."

The guy sighed and gave him an _ain't that just the way_ grin.

"I tried explaining," he said. "She wasn't hearing any of it, thought you were the government spyin' on her. Some people just don't understand. You have a good day now, sir."

"You too," said Dean, and sat down heavily on the bed.

He waited, but Castiel never reappeared.

The phone didn't ring.

***

A week later, Dean told the proprietor he was moving on.

There had been no sign of his older self, or Castiel.

Behind the wheel of the Impala, he thought about what his older self had said:

_Because he feels like home._

Idly, as he drove down the street, Dean wondered if he would ever have one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from a Jimmy Buffett song.


	8. You've Got a Fast Car

Next town down, Dean got a gig as a barback.

Pretty girls were dropping hints and keys and panties, it was the kind of town where he was an 11 and he knew it.

But his heart just wasn't in it anymore. He only had eyes for Cas.

Not that he'd seen him again, or heard from himself again.

His mind just kept reeling, repeating, _Cas_ and _he feels like home_.

One night, he turned around, and there he was:

Cas, sitting at his bar, watching him with those half-lidded, half-hungry eyes.

"Cas," he said, his voice all rejoice and sorrow and relief rolled into one. "Cas, you're here."

"I thought I owed you an explanation."

"I'm done in ten," he said, clocking the knowing looks of various girls who'd chanced it with him, and overhearing one mutter _all the hot ones are gay._

He ignored them, and just celebrated the fact that he could finally look into those beautiful blue eyes again.

***

"I followed you here," said Cas, when Dean had joined him at the table.

"Clear across the country, no less," said Dean.

Cas nodded.

"I followed your heartbeat," he said. "And your longing. It was...loud."

"Yeah," said Dean, and damn the rural area, damn the bar, damn everything, he reached across the table and took Castiel's hand in his.

The angel shuddered visibly under his ministrations.

"Come back to my motel with me, Cas, please," said Dean, soft and urgent. "I can give you everything we _both_ want."

"Believe me, Dean, there's nothing I want more," said Cas. "But the trouble is - you can't."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not him."

Dean blinked.

"What?" he demanded. "I'm not me? What does that mean?"

In lieu of an answer, Castiel reached across the table and rolled up his shirtsleeve, revealing unmarred, smooth skin.

Then, Cas heaved a deep sigh.

"You're not _him_ ," Cas said again, regretfully.

"Cas, you ain't makin' a lick of sense," said Dean. "I'm _him,_ I'm Dean. Hell of a lot less repressed than it sounds like I am in the future."

"Yes, I know," said Castiel. "And believe me, you are... _alluring._ Tempting. Your mouth was made for sin."

"Then let's sin together, angel," whispered Dean with a rakish grin.

Castiel's teeth ground together and he shut his eyes.

"Please don't make this harder than it is," he said.

"Oh, I can make it a whole lot harder than that," said Dean.

"Dean."

"Cas."

"I came back - I thought it was wise to keep an eye on you, given that I - I understood, perhaps too late, what your plan - what you planned to do."

"This that whole _Back to the Future_ deal?" Dean asked, kicking back and drinking his beer, ensuring that Castiel got an eyeful of a body of which Dean was, he believed, justifiably proud.

"Yes," confirmed Castiel.

"Okay, so he wanted to _make right what once went wrong,_ " Dean quoted. "You got any intel on that, Al?"

"I don't understand that reference," said Castiel. "But I do know that Dean wanted the chance to change a few things, and it seems he finally found a way to get through to you."

"Not for long, though," said Dean. "They fixed the phone line. I got bupkis ever since."

"That's a shame," said Castiel. "Or perhaps, it's for the best."

"Where was I callin' from, anyway?" asked Dean. "I was pretty vague about that."

Castiel sighed and rubbed his face.

"Heaven," he said. "You - and your brother - are my charge. I was busy rebuilding with - anyway. I thought it best to intercept - "

"Wait a sec," said Dean. "Rewind there, Travolta. _Heaven?_ "

"Yes," Castiel said.

"That means - "

"Yes," Castiel told him. 

"You're dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Travolta' comment from another angel film, _Michael_. Did I mention that I've always had a thing about angels? ;)
> 
> Other quote is from _Quantum Leap_.


	9. Another Day Older and Deeper in Debt

Dean's options for work around this time of year were in Pennsylvania Dutch (read: Amish) country or to turn tail entirely and hit the coastline of Florida.

Finding out that he was dead, in the future - despite knowing that literally everyone was technically dead in the future - had really thrown him for a loop.

Castiel had made his excuses and disappeared, leaving Dean with an empty ache in his chest where Cas had been and no real understanding of why.

So he did what he did every time things went sour: he turned to the drift, to the work, to the road.

Dean's hedonism won out, as it usually did, and he set his sights on bartending for spring breakers. The work didn't pay quite as much, but it wasn't as backbreaking, and he could use the milder weather.

Oddly, his thoughts of Spring Break college girls and guys were half-hearted.

He wondered if he was broken.

All he had eyes for was a dude in a rumpled trenchcoat, who was hot, and supernatural after all, but it wasn't like Dean hadn't seen his fair share of both over a lifetime of monster hunting.

He was pining, and lovesick. 

He wondered if this was what it felt like to fall in love. 

For real this time.

He got a job fairly easily; beggars couldn't really be choosers at this time of year.

Dean watched a parade of bikini-clad girls and guys, tanned and willing, march on past him, and he found that he just didn't care. He'd go back to his motel alone every night and drink beer and half-hope that Castiel would knock on his door.

Hell, he barely _knew_ the guy, but knowing what his older self had told him...it was enough.

He was in the middle of an episode of _The X-Files_ and making fun of it when the phone rang.

Dean nearly knocked over his beer in his rush to answer.

"Hello?" he asked, and was absolutely relieved to hear the garbled static on the other end. "Hello?"

" - this gonna fuckin' work right this time?" he heard his older counterpart say.

"Dean," said Dean, smiling.

"Ah, thank fuck," said Dean. "Look, you -"

There was a knock at the door.

"Hang on a sec," said Dean, and put the phone down.

He opened the door to find Castiel standing there.

Relief washed over him like a wave, and suddenly Castiel was kissing him, hard and urgent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hobo friend sent me a destiel video I'm sure you've all seen before, _He Likes Boys_ , but if you haven't go and look it up, it's hilarious. Made me snort while eating tuna straight out of the can after doing calisthenics on a balcony just south of Tijuana a while back. Enjoy.
> 
> Chapter title from song _Sixteen Tons_.


	10. Home

"Whoa!" Dean exclaimed, backing away. "Awesome to see you too, Cas, but - kinda got a situation here."

He picked up the phone to hear Dean swearing at him.

"Hey," he said, casually into the receiver.

"Please. I am _begging_ you. Don't."

"Why?"

The voice on the phone was world-weary, or just -

exhausted.

"He's all we've got," said Dean quietly. "He's all I've got. Okay? I can't force you. I can't stop you. I'm just _asking._ Please."

Dean sighed, pressed a hand against his eyes.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"Promise me you won't squander it," said Dean. "Promise me, that one day, we'll get to have this. No more hiding, no more bein' a coward. An' I'll stand aside."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

"Promise," said the elder Dean quietly.

"Good," said Dean, and then hung up the phone.

"And I'm gonna keep my promise to you," said Dean to Castiel, "that I won't listen, even if he gets through again. I'll let things take their course, good or bad. That what you wanted to stop? Him gettin' through?"

Castiel nodded once, briefly.

"Can I ask why?"

"Because then we would never meet," said Castiel. "Selfish of me, but -"

"I take it I'm gonna have to suffer in order to meet you."

"Yes. Terribly."

"And you wouldn't wish it on me otherwise, but -"

"But," Castiel affirmed. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean lifted his chin.

"I'll put up with anything," he said, "long as I get to see you again, long as we get another chance at this."

"But I haven't told you what it is yet," said Castiel. 

"Don't matter," said Dean. "Here's the thing. Every town, every place in this country - hell, in this _world -_ for somebody, is well-worn, like the pages of a favorite book. Everywhere is home to somebody. Everywhere matters, no matter how small or worn down it seems. Shared your first kiss on the swingset. Watched sunsets with your friends at that park. Places that are special to someone out there. That's what we go around saving, Cas. _Home_."

Castiel gave him a puzzled look.

"So that's what I'm savin' for myself," he said. "My home. You."

Revelation dawned in Castiel's blue eyes, too beautiful like the ache of sunrise.

"Now mind-whammy me so I ain't got any memory of you or me or anything," he said. "Set me on that course so I can find my way back home."

When Castiel touched his forehead to erase his memory, it was gentle.

***

_Several years later, Dean clawed his way out of his grave and took a deep breath of fresh pine air for the second first time._


	11. How Do You Talk to an Angel?

Dean was working on the Impala.

Not that he needed to; this was heaven.

But it helped to clear his head.

"Dean."

Dean's shoulders tightened, and the muscles in his neck.

"Cas."

"Look at me, please."

Dean sighed, wiping his hands with a rag, and turning around despite his misgivings.

_God, he's beautiful._

The thought crashed through his mind as he beheld Castiel, all blue eyes and rumpled trenchcoat.

An ordinary man he might pass on the street, maybe check him out once or twice for good measure.

But all that was _Castiel_ came crashing in on Dean's walls and they shattered like sugar glass as if they were never there in the first place.

"Why didn't you come and see me?"

Castiel had the grace to look a little shifty.

"I didn't...know how you'd respond."

Dean huffed, crossing his arms.

"So you decide to stop me contacting my younger self so we could stop this trainwreck before it ever left the station."

Castiel nodded.

"How'd you know we were doing it?"

The angel shrugged, palms up.

"Jack and I built this place," he said. "We know everything that goes on within it."

"And no _hey Dean, good to see you, nice to see Sam made it up here?_ Nothing."

"I may have been - "

"An asshole."

"Shy, I was going to say."

"Not shy enough to resist trying to rail my twink ass back in the day," said Dean.

"I regret some of my actions, Dean, but I felt it necessary to intervene."

"Long as you get a little tail on the side, is that it?"

"Are you jealous? Of _yourself_?"

Dean tossed the rag he had been holding.

"Hell," he said. "Maybe? I was sure as hell a lot braver in those days. But man, Cas! We coulda stopped _everything_ , changed the world maybe."

"And then who would be in charge of halting the apocalypse?" Cas asked. "Who would deal with Sam's demon blood? And we never would have met."

"Don't you get it? I don't _matter,_ man, it's -"

"Dean Winchester. You matter to _me._ "

"Then what the hell, Cas? You give me this heartfelt love confession and ... avoid me? Go back in time, before we met, and try to get in my way? What the fuck is going through your mind?"

"I guess I thought I'd never - you could never reciprocate, Dean, and I didn't expect - the reaction of your younger self. I didn't know that you were interested in male vessels."

"Newsflash, I'm bisexual," said Dean angrily. "Male vessels, female vessels, weird thing to say."

"All souls are housed in vessels," said Castiel. "Not unlike angels. You'd be no less _Dean_ if your soul was housed in a female vessel - you're still you."

"Huh," said Dean, considering the implications of that. "Well, here's more news for you: I made a promise, to myself. Here goes: Castiel, Angel of the Lord, I love you too."

Castiel stood stock-still and stared at him.

"This isn't funny, Dean," he intoned, sounding so much like himself from years ago that Dean had to hide a smile.

"Not kidding," said Dean, taking a step forward. "This is the scariest shit I've done in my life, okay? So just - "

And Dean captured Castiel's lips in his own, sweet and chaste.

He backed away to evaluate Castiel's reaction.

Dean was startled to realize he could suddenly see Cas's wings -

and they were made of stained glass, like church windows, high and colorful, arching behind him.

"Wow," said Dean, reaching out a hand to touch, light beaming and refracting through glass and casting colors on the ground.

Cas, for his part, was speechless.


	12. Revelation

When they came together, finally, finally -

it was with the religious ecstasy of a Southern tent revival,

(all praise to the angel Castiel, who brings paradise unto him)

the fundamental truth of a wide and blue Montana sky,

(Castiel's eyes, wide and blue above him)

the power and fury of a Great Lakes storm,

(of the angel moving inside him, all glory)

the pattering, sudden relief of the rain

(of the sound of Castiel's exultation pattering down on the soft skin of his belly)

after a Kansas Dust Bowl famine -

those long-ago Americans forced to drift.

America, American.

Simple and mean, earth as magnet, man of a nation ancient and not yet young.

And with the blessings of a hundred thousand desert sons,

those guarded and guardians of the celebrated angel Castiel,

aloof and distant, great and terrible,

made of the sky and of starstuff.

Castiel,

who trembled at the height of it, carnal and pure -

to _finally_ claim, to possess, 

the utter _good_ housed in him,

a madmaking goodness Castiel chased as a man might chase tequila with a bite of lime -

and _oh_ , how he wanted to -

_bite -_

and to find completion and conquest here, in the man with the golden soul -

only for a love borne of knowing those hundred thousand desert suns,

rising and falling,

expanded to billions upon billions,

of days and dreams and celestial reflection,

collapsing in forever as he found his ecstasy, a dying star

finding its focus and true north in one perfect, flawed man

the sun-kissed constellations of his skin his only previous contact with the divine.

In this way, Dean Winchester experienced the laying on of hands, and so received revelation.


	13. Abstract

Afterwards -

Castiel held him, naked as a jaybird, his wings making a sound like windchimes in the breeze.

Fascinated, Dean lifted a hand to touch them.

They were soft, like feathers, but he could tell they had sharp edges in other circumstances.

"Like that fuckin' scene in _The Hand that Rocks the Cradle,_ " he said. "Glass is _sharp._ Fragile, though."

"My wings aren't fragile," Castiel informed him. "But yes, they are weapons in themselves, and can be sharp as jagged glass."

"Wow," said Dean, grinning up at them, his hand against a pane of glass that was also a large feather.

But there was something missing, and he couldn't keep it from his expression.

"What is it, Dean?" asked Castiel. "I sense...dissatisfaction."

Dean sighed.

"Well, yeah, man, I guess," said Dean. "It's just - don't get me wrong, Cas, I'm glad I made it up here. Hell, I'm fuckin' _thrilled,_ after the things I've done."

"But?"

"Don't wanna seem ungrateful," Dean mumbled.

"Go ahead, Dean," said Cas. "Your thoughts are your thoughts, and they are all valuable."

Dean snorted.

"Guess you haven't seen all of my thoughts, then," he said. "But - Cas. It's just - this is _nice,_ y'know? _Pleasant._ Whatever you want, whenever you want it. I'm glad you and Jack played Mr. Fix-It up here for people to have a nice time. It's just - "

"Other people aren't like you," Castiel guessed.

"I'm not like other girls," Dean said, and laughed. "You remember, back in the day, when I said I'd rather be down there on Earth than a Stepford bitch in paradise?"

He blinked.

"Can I swear here?"

"Never stopped you before."

"Uh, okay, cool. Anyway, I'm glad we got our shit together after all this time, Cas, believe me," said Dean. "I never thought this could happen."

"I never did either," admitted Castiel. "I never thought you - could love something like me."

"Well you were dead wrong," said Dean. "Where'd you get that idea anyway?"

"I didn't know you liked men," said Castiel.

"Ain't just that, though, is it?"

Castiel bowed his head.

"I'm not good enough for you, Dean."

Dean gave him a puzzled look and sat up.

"The hell you mean?" he asked. "You're a literal _angel,_ dude."

He glanced down at himself.

"Uh, you wanna - ?"

His clothes reappeared, as did Castiel's, and Dean rocked back on his heels to look at the angel.

"Thanks," he said. "But - not _good enough_ for me? Are you hearing yourself? I'm a drifter nobody who just happened to get caught up in the most recent apocalypse. I ain't no prize."

"That's not true," said Castiel, eyes filled with what Dean now recognized as love. "And I'm a second-rate angel. No matter what I try to do, it always comes out wrong. When I think of the things I did, Dean, I - how could I think myself worthy of you?"

"Okay, slow down there, chief," said Dean. "You're saying you hate yourself, but I love you."

He paused, startled at his own frankness, but pushed on.

"Don't matter if you hate yourself," said Dean. "I'll love you enough for it, but - it's gotta be like defeating the Highland Charge, okay? Those guys - the ones who figured it out, they stabbed the man in front of them, to their left, and had to trust the other guys to - uh, to be there at the same time or they'd - y'know." 

Dean took a deep breath, because none of this was easy.

"I gotta trust you to love me back, to have my back, the same - to - to cover my own. Self hate. I mean."

Garbled though it was, Dean looked up at Castiel, hesitant, hoping the message had gotten through.

"I do," said Castiel, with unadorned sincerity. "I always will."

"Good," said Dean, "Now that's settled. It's just that -"

"You miss Earth," said Castiel.

"I miss _home_ ," said Dean. "I'm _homesick._ "

"You're homesick in heaven."

"Well, yeah," said Dean. "Even this nicer version is like living in the mall, right? Malls are nice and clean, with potted palms. And just kind of - unreal and boring. Real life, _out there_ , it's full of the scent of rain, dirt under your fingernails, birds singing."

"You can have all that here."

"But it won't be real."

"You won't be able to tell."

"Yeah maybe," said Dean. "But I'll _know_ , and that's the same thing."

"You miss dirt under your fingernails."

"It's an example, Cas. No. I miss raw, _real,_ reality."

He glanced at the angel.

"And the thing is, I always wanted to get my hands on you," said Dean. "But up here, who knows if I have? Are these even hands? Everything's abstract, including the sex."

"So you want...to have non-abstract sex."

"In a manner of speaking...yeah."

Castiel grinned.

"I'm glad to hear you say that."

"Well, you should be," said Dean. "You're fuckin' hot, is what, and - wait a second."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the angel suspiciously.

"Why?"

And Castiel looked at Dean with the same beatific expression and bright blue eyes as he'd had, the first time he'd said these words to him:

"Because we've got work for you."


	14. Swing Low, Sweet Chariot

"Work?" repeated Dean. "What kinda work? Thought this was all about, y'know. Lay your weary head to rest. All that shit."

Castiel nodded, which turned into something more of a side-to-side sway as he said:

"Well, yes, but I thought you might begin to find heaven a little..."

"Boring?"

"Something like that."

"Okay," said Dean. "So what's this work that needs doing?"

Castiel now looked a little uncertain, although whether that was because he was asking Dean to do some kind of heaven work or if he was worried about what Dean was going to say, he had no idea.

"Here," said Castiel. "It's yours. If you want it."

There was a ring laying in the center of Castiel's palm.

Dean felt his heart speed up even though it wasn't real, until he recognized that this wasn't some kind of strange offer of engagement:

"That's Death's ring," said Dean.

Castiel nodded.

"He felt," said Cas, "that you were worthy of wearing it. After all, you've had experience."

"But I killed the guy!"

"He's relaxing on a beach in Cabo," said Castiel. "Retired. Ready to hand down the scythe."

"But...why me?"

"Death is much like a drifter," said Castiel. "Always on the road. Meeting new people, seeing new places. Something of a comfort, at the end."

"And I'd have a body again?" Dean hazarded. "I could return to Earth?"

Castiel grinned.

"And eat pizza," he said.

"Deal," said Dean. "Two conditions."

"Name them."

"One: you're coming with me. Two: I get to keep my early-20s girlish figure, forever."

"Vanity," said Castiel.

"And greed, let's be real here," said Dean. "After all that, I ain't lettin' you outta my sight. Got it?"

"Got it," said Castiel.

Dean nodded, and slid the ring onto his finger.

***

Death, and the Angel of it, drive a big black car.

They're lovers, you know.

And on the road, they are friends to the friendless, a welcome sweetness that accompanies the end.


	15. Author's Note

This one went all over the place. I hope you all found it entertaining :)

Stay safe out there, everyone.


End file.
